


Chrysanthemum

by GabesBeanie



Category: Naruto
Genre: AU: Florist/Tattooist, Flowers, Grieving, M/M, Mother's Day, Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-02 23:34:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8687950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GabesBeanie/pseuds/GabesBeanie
Summary: The Chrysanthemum is a flower of honor, loyalty, sympathy, friendship, and love. Happy Mother's Day.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Remember in ye olden days (like, a year ago) when there was a FloristxTattooist trope going around? No? Well, I wrote this when that trope was big. This was meant as a Mother's Day tribute. It may be a bit late, but honestly, when isn't it a good time to remember our mother figures?

Behind the room-dividing curtain, Iruka Umino looked up from where he was coloring in an impressive and fierce looking tiger at the sound of the front door’s chime. He looked down to the young woman in front of him, her shirt pulled up so that the bright image could stretch across the whole of her back.

 

“Be there in just a moment!” He shouted towards the front. He adjusted his grip on the tattoo machine and finished coloring the last of the tiger’s tail, taking care not to rush.

 

Iruka gently wiped the image clean and he was done. “There you are,” Iruka said, removing the needle and placing down the machine. He helped the woman up from the tilted chair and gave her instructions for after-care, along with a sheaf of clear wrap which he helped her tape down. After reiterating the instructions to a tee, she thanked him once more and wobbled out to the front.

 

Snapping off his gloves Iruka finally remembered there was someone waiting in the front room.

 

“Hi there, can I help you?” Iruka asked, plastering on his customer-friendly face. The man in front of him was tall and oddly... pale. His skin and hair seeming almost translucently white. Except for his eyes when they looked up from Iruka’s sample-work binders that covered the countertop. One slate gray and one rusty burgundy eye looked up at him.

 

The man cleared his throat from behind a medical mask adorned with a cheerful floral pattern, “Ah, hello. I own the shop next door and I think these,” he gestured to three large boxes sitting on the front counter, “belong to you.”

 

“Oh,” Iruka shook himself and quickly inspected the labels. “Thank you for bringing them over.”

 

The silver-haired man nodded, offering a little hum in response. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, looking around at the walls covered in designs and drawings. “Did you draw all of these?” He asked, gesturing with his chin to the art.

 

“Hm? Oh, yeah. Well, most of them,” Iruka corrected. He motioned to a framed ink drawing of a budding chrysanthemum hung with care by the register. “This one was drawn by my mother.”

 

“Oh really?” The man asked, leaning over to inspect the drawing. “Was she a tattoo artist, too?”

 

Iruka smiled, “Sort of. She may have unofficially been an apprentice at a studio in Japan that catered to... Ah, the yakuza.”

 

Pale eyebrows rose sharply, “Really, now? Seems you have some tough blood in your family.”

 

Iruka stood a bit straighter at the compliment, not above preening over his mother’s work. “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” he smiled, holding out his hand. “I’m Iruka. Iruka Umino.”

 

Behind the mask, the tall man smiled and took the other’s hand in a firm shake, “Kakashi Hatake.”

 

Iruka’s eyes widened at that, “No way, are you Japanese, too?”

 

“Half, actually. On my mother’s side.”

 

“Oh yeah?” Iruka smiled, leaning over the counter a bit. And if he was maybe using his Signature Flirtation Smile... Well. “Let me guess... Your dad was military?”

 

Kakashi chuckled, “You got it in one. My old man was stationed there and met my mother. A few years later, there I was.” He plucked at his fluffy white hair, “And he gave me his old man hair, to boot.”

 

Iruka laughed, leaning off of the counter to grab at the boxes still stacked somewhat between them, “Well at least you have a little color. I’m brown, with brown, and a touch of more brown.”

 

“Maa, I would say you pull off brown very nicely,” Kakashi smiled again, his eyes crinkling with mirth.

 

Iruka flushed.

 

“Do you want any help with those?” Kakashi asked, moving towards the boxes.

 

Flustered, Iruka shook his head, “Ah, no need for that. I’ll grab ‘em.”

 

“It’s no trouble at all,” Kakashi waved him off and picked up the remaining two boxes. “Where do you want them?”

 

Iruka huffed out an aborted laugh and shook his head. “Follow me,” he said, and disappeared behind the curtain with Kakashi shuffling behind.

 

“So… do you have any tattoos?” Iruka asked, as they stored the boxes in the back room. He couldn’t help but be curious.

 

“I do,” Kakashi nodded. He tapped his left bicep, “right here.”

 

“Oh yeah? Mind if I ask what it is?”

 

Kakashi stiffened minutely before returning his hands to his pockets. “Special ops insignia. I was in for about five years until I was... recently discharged.”

 

Sensing the tension in his companion’s frame, Iruka refrained from offering any comment other than a polite hum of acknowledgement. They stood in silence for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts before Kakashi suddenly asked “What about you? I would have expected full sleeves on someone running a tattoo parlor.” He pointed to Iruka’s bare forearms in askance.

 

Rolling with the change of subject, Iruka gave a brief smile, scratching lightly at the scar over his nose. “Well, they wouldn’t let me wear short-sleeved shirts to school if I was covered in tats.”

 

Kakashi tilted his head in question, “School?”

 

Iruka flushed a bit, he hadn’t really told anyone but... “Yeah, I’m getting my license to be a teacher.”

 

“A teacher! For young kids?” Iruka nodded and Kakashi shook his head. “You know I’d rather get full sleeves than deal with kids all day, that’s for sure.”

 

“Oh come on, they’re not all bad,” Iruka smirked.

 

The look Kakashi gave him told him very differently

 

Iruka scoffed, “Okay so some of them are little assholes, but who’s not!”

 

At that moment, Kakashi’s head swiveled sharply to look outside the front windows where a portly man was quickly walking away with overflowing armfuls of flowers.

 

“That guy… did not pay for those.” Kakashi muttered darkly, striding quickly towards the door in hot pursuit.

 

Iruka followed him around the counter and out the door. “What! How do you know that?” He called to the other’s retreating back.

 

Kakashi turned briefly, waving and smiling with his eyes, “Because those are from my shop! See ya!” He turned around and continued his chase of the flower thief.

 

After a moment’s pause, Iruka began laughing. He laughed so hard tears welled in his eyes. Oh man! His new ex-military, extremely handsome, socially awkward, and quite possibly albino neighbor... was a florist.

 

=x=x=x=

 

Iruka didn’t see Kakashi for a few days after, but that was to be expected with his own busy schedule and the upcoming Mother’s Day rush for flowers. Finally it was Saturday and the holiday preparations had pretty much come to an end, other than the last-minute rush of customers.

 

He couldn’t even count the number of “mom” tattoos he’d done in the past week alone.

 

Frankly, he was exhausted. And at the risk of sounding like a petulant five year old, he wanted to ink something else, dammit! Scrolling font over a comical heart wasn’t even a challenge!

 

After waving away yet another young man with a freshly tatted bicep, Iruka decided to do himself a favor and close shop early. Flipping the store-front sign to Closed, Iruka quickly released and ruffled his brown hair out. Pulling out his trusty back-pocket comb, he gave it a quick brushing before tying it up more loosely than his working high-ponytail.

 

Not that he would admit it out loud, but he wanted to look nice for his new… neighbor friend.

 

He slapped himself across his scar for acting like such a virgin teenager.

 

Quickly taking his usual evening inventory and cleaning his work station, Iruka packed up his trusty satchel and checked himself in the full-length mirror. Hair brushed and loosely tied, check. Dark shirt lint-free, check. Jeans fitting nicely on the butt… check. Yeah, he looked good. Giving himself one last confident smile, he straightened his spine and strode out the front and down the street.

 

And then promptly turned right back around to lock up the store behind him. It had been a long day.

 

Iruka looked over the display barrels lined up in front of the bright little shop next door. Some rather impressive displays of lilies and bundles of lilacs practically burst from their simple containers. Bushels of wildflowers attracted a small swirl of bees that danced drunkenly in the air around the shop. Even a charming collection of pinwheels sat at the foot of a taller display.

 

A small banner with the kanji for flower blew above the door. An homage to his mother, Iruka presumed with a smile. Brushing a stray lock of hair from his face, he pushed open the door with a soft electronic _ding_.

 

Rows of flowers filled the rather small shop, organized by type and color by the look of it. The far wall to his left was lined with chilled, glass fridges, likely for corsages or similar. Iruka perused the collection slowly, taking his time to read the names of the flowers he didn’t recognize and taking a deep whiff of the ones he enjoyed.

 

There was a small cluster of bright, round chrysanthemums in the corner. Iruka plucked a pinkish one from the center and breathed it in, memories of summers in Japan flooding back.

 

“Ah, I thought I heard someone come in,” a familiar voice sounded from the back. Iruka turned to see Kakashi, or what he assumed was Kakashi, behind an unbelievable number of roses. Quickly setting them in a display barrel, Kakashi wiped his hands and smiled to his companion. Not that Iruka could see it.

 

“Why do you wear a mask?” Iruka asked.

 

“Why do you wear your hair up?” Kakashi countered.

 

Iruka blinked, taken aback at the rather immature sounding reply. Barely restraining himself from putting his hands on his hips, Iruka raised an eyebrow, “To keep my hair out of the way when I’m working.”

 

Kakashi’s eye curved up as he tapped the side of the papery medical mask, “I have allergies.”

 

“What, to pollen?” Iruka burst out a laugh at the other man’s small nod, “That’s not ironic at all!”

 

“Yeah,” Kakashi chuckled, scratching the back of his head. A slight flush dusted across his cheekbones. “So, uh, what can I help you with?”

 

“Oh, I was just looking around for a mother’s day bouquet,” Iruka smiled. “I’m thinking something with lilies.”

 

Kakashi nodded, “Well, we can do any of these,” he pointed to a laminated sheet taped to the top of his counter. “Or we can build a custom one.”

 

Iruka looked over the choices on the sheet, his eyes scanning the colorful images and prices of bouquets. “I think this small one will be good,” he said, pointing to a simple yet charming arrangement.

 

“Alright, I can get that right out for you if you don’t mind a wait.” Kakashi turned towards the tubs of flowers.

 

“Not at all,” Iruka smiled. He leaned against the counter while Kakashi strode around the shop, his floral-patterned apron and mask making his otherwise striking figure rather endearing. He moved with such unconscious grace that Iruka caught himself staring at the man’s back perhaps longer than was really polite.

 

They made small talk as Kakashi worked. Iruka debated colors of flowers whilst Kakashi argued about how they would fit into the arrangement. Iruka had some knowledge of color and balance, being an artist himself, but there was a small thrill in bantering with Kakashi, even if it was over the shades of daisies.

 

“Alright,” Kakashi said, moving over to the register to ring him up. “Did you want these in a vase? They’d look nice as a centerpiece for her dining room.”

 

Iruka’s face fell slightly as he handed over some bills, “Oh, I’m…” he trailed off, clearing his throat. “I’ll actually be taking these to her grave.”

 

Iruka swallowed, his brows furrowing as he stared at the flower bundle placed on the countertop. He never seemed to struggle talking about his parents unless it directly involved their passing. Taking a deep breath, he looked up to see a sort of sad understanding in Kakashi’s eyes.

 

“I see,” Kakashi nodded, a melancholy replacing their earlier frivolity. “I’ll get these wrapped in a plastic sheath to keep them healthy then.”

 

Iruka gave a small smile, “Thanks.”

 

Handing him back the change, Kakashi fiddled with the receipt before handing it over. “My mother passed as well, when I was very young.” He paused, searching for the right words. “If you wanted, I mean, if it’s not intrusive or anything, I could maybe…”

 

He trailed off, wondering if he should continue when Iruka interrupted him. “Would you like to come with me tomorrow to give your flowers, too?”

 

Kakashi blinked up at the man, his brown eyes warm and genuine. Fighting the heat rising in his cheeks, Kakashi pulled down his mask to rest at his chin, offering the man a visible smile. “Why yes,” he said, handing his customer and friend the receipt. “I think I would like that very much.”

 

He handed over the modest bundle of flowers, not failing to notice how Iruka’s eyes lit up at the sight of the single chrysanthemum nestled in its center.

 

=x=x=x=

 

Iruka stood in front of his hallway mirror in his modest apartment. He donned his usual mother’s day attire, a well-cut black suit and a soft lilac shirt. It was the same color his father would wear on mother’s day when they celebrated together, and it felt fitting to continue with the tradition.

 

He left the first two buttons open on the shirt and adjusted the collar. The small stud and loop in his right ear remained and he debated leaving his hair down or tying it low at his neck for a moment before choosing the latter.

 

As his hands brushed the nape of his neck, Iruka’s fingers drifted over the ink centered over his vertebrae. The memory of his mother’s smile tickling the back of his mind.

 

_“Look at this Iruka!” His mother smiled, pulling out a piece of fine paper and kneeling at her low work table._

_A young Iruka knelt down next to her and leaned in, “what is it?”_

_“This here,” she told him, picking up a large brush and applying dark strokes to the paper, “Is the kanji for sea.”_

_“Like in our name!”_

_She laughed, a bright sound in the warm room. “That’s right, and if you see here, this little bit means mother.” She pointed to the paper._

_Iruka took a moment to scrutinize the symbol, his little features scrunching up in concentration. as he had only recently begun learning kanji in school. His eyes brightened, “Yeah, I see it!”_

_“So you know what that means, right Iruka?” She asked, pulling her son onto her lap she traced the thin scar across the bridge of his nose. “It means that no matter where you are, your mother will always be with you. I’m always nestled right there in your name.” She tapped his nose, earning a giggle from her young son._

_“You’ll always be with me mama!” He laughed with bright eyes._

_“Of course, my darling.” She held him close, her heartbeat steady in his ear. “Of course.”_

 

With a deep sigh, Iruka removed himself from the memory. That had been a few scant years before she had passed. He hadn’t realized how little time he would have left with her. He rubbed lightly at the kanji for _sea_ at the base of his neck for a moment before dropping his hand and retrieving the flowers from the glass he’d left them in for the evening. Shaking off the excess water, he quickly breathed in the fresh, crisp scent.

 

Iruka quickly snatched up his wallet and phone from his bedside table and with one last glance in the mirror, he made his way towards his shop.

 

Luckily for him, the shops were only a few blocks away and he was able to walk there easily. Today he told Kakashi to meet him by the wooden bench between their doors so they could make their way to the cemetery. Taking a seat at the bench, Iruka glanced at his watch. He was a good ten minutes early. It was overcast and a little chilly, so he hoped Kakashi would come striding around the block any second so they could catch the bus together.

 

The thought had barely left his mind when a sleek midnight blue car rolled down the street, stopping right in front of him. The passenger side window rolled down and Kakashi leaned over with a devilish smile. “Afternoon, Iruka. Hope I didn’t leave you waiting long.”

 

“This is _your_ car?” Iruka jumped up, walking up to the vehicle and appreciating its sleek and stylish design.

 

“What gave it away?” Kakashi chuckled from the driver’s seat. He sat in a comfortable slouch in the leather seat, a dark dress shirt and pants hugging his form. Iruka shook his head. His neighbor was crazy.

 

Sliding into the passenger seat, Iruka shut the door and adjusted his small bouquet in his grip. With a cheeky utterance of “buckle up,” Kakashi revved the car and sped off.

 

They were both quiet on the ride there, a soft electronic beat coming from the radio being the only noise over the car’s engine. The winding path up to the cemetery was mostly empty, only a scant few other cars passing them back down.

 

The area was nestled in a shady field at the summit of a wide hill just to the north of the city. Kakashi parked the car in a small gravel lot and the two strode out towards the ornately gated entrance. Iruka noticed Kakashi had a small shoulder bag with him as well as a small bundle of white daisies.

 

Neat rows of stones covered the hill, some small and simple and others towering, likely belonging to whole families with a single plot. Several meters inside of the gates was a simple fountain with small wooden buckets and thick-bristled brushes laid out in front of it. A small sign politely requested the return of the items after use.

 

Kakashi and Iruka each grabbed and filled a bucket from the water in the fountain. “Our family plot is over that way,” Iruka pointed off to the left.

 

“Lead the way,” Kakashi nodded with a small smile. Iruka returned it, feeling much more at peace than he had during previous years’ visits.

 

The Umino family plot consisted of one tall, narrow stone bordered by two smaller ones with their family crest engraved into each. The names of the family members were etched into the large stone in their traditional kanji per his parents’ request.

 

Iruka crouched down in front of the stone, his fingers tracing the name Umino Shio, “Hello mother. Sorry it’s been so long. Happy Mother’s day.” He spoke softly, not minding that Kakashi was standing just a few paces behind him. “I’m doing well and so is the shop. I’m making progress on my teaching license,” Iruka laughed. “Hard to imagine me being a teacher now when I was such a numb-skull kid, huh?”

 

Sliding his fingers over, Iruka let his hand drift over the name Umino Hayase, “Father…”

 

Iruka went quiet. There were so many things he found himself wanting to say to his father. Apologies, explanations, regrets… Their relationship had faltered towards the end of his and his mother’s life, and while he was able to reconcile with his mother, his father never got that opportunity.

 

They were taken too quickly.

 

Breathing in crisp air, Iruka shuddered out, “I wish I could have told you…” He paused, gathering his breath, his chest suddenly heavy. “Your words always meant so much to me. I was always proud to have you as a father… and… I’m sorry that those words were not said sooner.”

 

A hand on his shoulder shocked Iruka from where he had leaned almost entirely against the stone. Kakashi stood beside him, eyes staring at the names of his parents and then shifting to Iruka. He did not say a word, only held his hand solid yet loose on the tanned man’s shoulder.

 

Iruka looked back to the stone then, somehow managing a small but sincere smile, “Thank you for watching over me, mother, father. When I see you again long from now, I’ll tell you everything.” He grabbed the small bucket and dipped the brush inside, proceeding to scrub down the stones and brush away the leaves. He could feel Kakashi’s presence nearby and felt himself smile.

 

When he was satisfied with his work, he placed the bouquet Kakashi had arranged for him in the empty cylinder inlaid into the stone for such a purpose. Iruka offered a quick prayer, his hand lingering over the nape of his neck for a moment before he turned to Kakashi with a beckoning hand.

 

“My mother was Umino Shio,” he explained as his friend stood beside him. “My father was Umino Hayase. They died when I was twelve… in the Nine Pillars Bridge collapse.”

 

Kakashi closed his eyes at that. He remembered hearing of that tragedy when he was just barely sixteen. The famous bridge was rocked by an earthquake that tumbled the support beams into the roaring gorge underneath. It had been the middle of a busy afternoon, dozens of cars passing overhead by the second. There were seven known survivors, one of whom was only an infant.

 

“My mother was accepted into a yakuza family as an artisan,” Iruka continued. “I never really knew much because I was so young, but I knew it was because of her mastery of traditional _irezumi_ tattooing.” Iruka smiled up at Kakashi, “She’s the one who got me into it.”

 

“That would explain some things,” Kakashi chuckled warmly, the two once more falling into a companionable silence. Kakashi scratched the back of his head before surprising Iruka by bowing to the stone with a quiet prayer. Straightening, the tall man offered a nervous smile before grabbing Iruka’s hand in his. “I would like for you to meet my parents now.”

 

Iruka’s cheeks flushed around his scar as he nodded. Saying another goodbye, he left his family memorial behind, a weight in his heart lifted a bit knowing that he was able to wish his mother well on her day, and that he could share a bit of her with a friend. He looked at his hand still held firmly in Kakashi’s. Yes, he thought, a very good friend.

 

=x=x=x=

 

The Hatake family plot consisted of one large asymmetrical stone with intricate patterns etched into the rosy granite. A bronze placard with the Hatake family crest was inlaid into a cement stand before it, bordered by two holding cylinders for offerings. As the two approached, Kakashi released his companion’s hand and knelt down before the stone. His fingers brushed the cool metal at the base of the stone before traveling up to touch at the familiar names.

 

Without saying a word, Kakashi picked up his own bucket and brush and scrubbed at the stone, wiping away what looked to be years’ worth of wear and dirt. After the first pass with the brush, Kakashi began to hum. The tune sounded familiar, but Iruka couldn’t place it. Several long moments passed with only Kakashi’s soft humming and the rustle of the trees filling the ambience. The soft swish of the brush over stone was oddly comforting and Iruka found himself swaying slightly were he stood in lush grass.

 

Kakashi tossed the brush into the bucket when he was finished and grabbed his arrangement of daisies. He placed them in one offering cylinder before reaching into his bag for a stick of incense and a lighter from his bag. The smell of jasmine drifted over the plot as Kakashi stood up, hands in his pockets and his gaze glued to the stone before him.

 

“Father, mother, it’s been a while,” Kakashi said, his voice a whisper. “Happy mother’s day.”

 

He smiled, a hand coming up to rub the back of neck in an endearingly self-conscious gesture. “This is my friend Iruka. He owns the shop next to mine. He’s a tattoo artist, you would love his work.” He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times as if unsure what to say.

 

“What was her name?” Iruka asked politely, pulling Kakashi from his thoughts.

 

“Komugi,” He smiled, his hand dropping back to his side and just brushing Iruka’s jacket. “Hatake Komugi. We used to make tempura together when I was little. She would let me clean the vegetables while she mixed the batter... I don’t eat it anymore, though.” He offered Iruka a small melancholy smile, “I find it’s never as good as hers was.”

 

Iruka looked at the man standing next to him. It was strange to see him so subdued where he was used to seeing a smirk and some sort of quip. In many ways this trip was a look into another side of his neighbor’s past, likely something he didn’t often show others judging by the tense set of his shoulders.

 

It struck him then how oddly similar they were.

 

The two men stood in silence after that, inhaling the rich jasmine scented offering and lost in their own memories. And if Iruka’s hand happened to slip into Kakashi’s at some point, neither of them felt the need to mention it.

 

=x=x=x=

 

 

“I’m sorry ma’am but I cannot offer refunds for my work,” Iruka spoke into the receiver, his professional nature shadowing the annoyance that was clear on his face. He paused as the woman spoke some more, her voice grating on his ears. He remembered her, too. She wanted her boyfriend’s name on… Well, that didn’t really matter. And now they had broken up she thought that was reason enough to get a refund… Two months later.

 

The snark won out. “What are you going to do ma’am, return it?”

 

Iruka moved the receiver away from his ear, the woman’s indignant shouts loud enough to hear from a good distance. The bell above his door chimed and Iruka looked up, hoping it was Kakashi coming to free him from an errant customer. Iruka had enjoyed the past mother’s day immensely in Kakashi’s company, the mood having lifted back to their normal banter-cum-flirtations with the dinner and saké that followed.

 

This thought in mind, Iruka was surprised to see that the doorway was empty. Confused, Iruka left off the call with some flippant response and was all-too happy to hang up. He walked around the counter and looked out the glass panes. He slipped through the door to look down the street, muttering curses for kids and their ding-dong-ditch games. Though, from outside he did have a good view of Kakashi’s work counter in the flower shop. He seemed to be studiously working on some large arrangement, his brow furrowed in concentration.

 

Iruka promised himself to stop by after closing.

 

Putting his hand on the door behind him, Iruka was surprised to feel something other than the cool metal against his palm. “What the—” He looked down and saw a single red chrysanthemum tied to the door handle with a ribbon. Attached to it was a small parchment tag that read in a narrow scrawl: _Coffee later?_

 

Iruka could feel his face heating up and silently cursed his neighbor. He looked up towards the other man’s shop and flushed even more when he saw the other man _waving_ at him with that _damn_ eye-smile of his. His floral-patterned face mask crinkled up with mirth.

 

Feeling equal parts embarrassed, indignant, and delighted, Iruka quickly untied the ribbon and retreated back into his shop. He took a moment to flip the door sign to _Closed_ before heading back outside and determinedly into the shop next door, a vermillion chrysanthemum clutched tightly in his hand.

 

 

=x END x=

**Author's Note:**

> Getting back into writing is always tough, but the only place left to go is up!


End file.
